"Asking for death!" Resentful from being scared back by a little girl's gaze, the granny stretched her shriveled fingers toward the edge of the sword without care.
She had expected that the seemingly unremarkable sword would certainly shatter into pieces under her grasp.
However, with a light clang, the granny's hand was shaken off.
Before she could react, the sword in the youth's hands divided itself into two. Under the stunned gaze of the old biddy, the sword in his left hand pierced her from the back.
"You!" The granny turned around in shock, and sharp thorns suddenly came out from the tips of her 10 shriveled fingers, aiming for the youth's arm.
A blue shimmer gleamed from the tip of the 10 thorns, its high toxicity apparent at first glance—the type that would cause death with a single touch.
